


Now Kiss!

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, POV Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had watched it slowly build for ages.  Seen it in the way Cas always sat behind Sam in the car so Dean could meet his eyes in the rear view mirror and in the way Dean found excuses to touch Cas’ arm or bump his shoulder when they walked.  They’d both noticed the way Cas stared at Dean from the start, but somewhere along the way Sam noticed that not only was Dean letting him stare, he was returning it, and then Dean was watching Cas even when Cas wasn’t looking at him.  And Christ, the way the two of them looked at each other, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if cartoon hearts started drifting up from the tops of their heads….</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now Kiss!

It was a single beer bottle that first clued Sam in to the fact that something had changed between his brother and Cas.  He’d walked into the motel room to find them going through a stack of papers, one beer on the table in front of them.   Dean nodded a hello at Sam before taking a drink and turning his attention back to the research.  Sam didn’t think anything of it until he happened to look over again and saw Cas setting down the beer.

 

Maybe he’d just missed the second bottle, but curiosity made him position himself where he could see and sure enough, there was only one beer and they were taking turns drinking from it. 

 

“Are we out of beer?” he asked, wondering why they didn’t just pour the last one into two glasses.

 

“Nope, plenty more in the fridge,” Dean answered. 

 

For someone who got his hands dirty as frequently as Dean Winchester did, he was surprisingly fussy about cleanliness.  He’d sometimes make Sam go first if he thought they'd be walking through cobwebs, he couldn’t stand to have sticky fingers (apparently the back of Sam’s coat made a fine napkin) and he frequently and reflexively polished silverware and glasses with the hem of his shirt before using them.

 

But now he and Cas were drinking from the same bottle?

 

The second hint came the next day when they’d finished lunch.  Sam and Dean were sitting on one side of the booth, with Cas across from them.  Sam had pulled a new pack of gum from his pocket and offered it around.

 

“You guys want gum?”

 

“What kind is it?”  Dean asked.

 

“Cinnamon.”

 

“Hell, yeah.“  Dean made little grabby hands at him until he took a piece out of the package for him.

 

“Cas?”

 

“No, thank you, Sam.”

 

Dean unwrapped his piece and popped it in his mouth, crumpling the foil into a little ball. He set it on the table then flicked it at Cas, the way they used to with paper footballs in middle school.

 

Cas sat stoically as it bounced off the right side of his face.

 

“Gotta be quicker than that!”  Dean grinned at him, leaning forward with forearms resting on the table. 

 

Cas deftly picked up the wrapper from where it had landed on the table and tossed it at Dean, angling it perfectly so it went down the front of his shirt.  Dean actually stopped chewing in surprise.

 

That was when Sam excused himself to go pay the bill.

 

When he came out of the restaurant, they were both leaning against the side of the Impala, not looking at each other (And _really_?  That was a red flag right there) but with matching, small smiles.  Dean, Sam noted, was no longer chewing gum.  But Cas was.

 

Sam patted his pocket, confirming he was still in possession of the gum.  As they all moved to get into the car, he’d had to stop and rest his hand on the roof for a long moment, dipping his head slightly as he tried to erase the mental image of how that gum had gotten from one mouth to the other and sending up a small prayer that he hadn’t walked out any sooner than he did.

 

Truth be told, even without absolute confirmation, Sam was thrilled to think his brother had finally manned up enough to take this thing with Cas to the next level.  He’d tried time and again to let Dean know he was in his corner, but each time he even remotely broached the subject, Dean had shot him down with a vehement _We are not talking about this_ or _It’s not like that_. 

 

 

Hell, once, after a couple of drinks, Sam had considered sneaking up behind them as they sat at the table, pushing their heads together, and exclaiming _Now KISS!_ He’d made himself laugh so hard at the thought that the two of them had actually broken their ridiculous, magnetic eye contact and stared at him.  Which only made him laugh harder, weakly waving his hands at them and gasping that they should just pretend like he wasn’t there.  As if _that_ weren’t already happening.  And that made him fall forward, lost to another wave of laughter, finally pulling himself together when his head hit the edge of his laptop screen.

 

More than anyone Sam had ever known, Dean deserved to be happy.  He’d spent his entire life taking care of other people, his childhood robbed from him by the loss of one parent and the obsession of the other.   He lived a life that by necessity denied him any sort of permanence or stability.   And for the most part, Dean liked it that way, he’d be the first to tell you that the need to roam ran deep in his blood.  But this thing with Cas, no matter how it had started, had gotten under Dean’s skin.  In the early days, Sam had argued with Dean about putting so much pressure on Cas to help them out.  But that relentlessness had turned into something like a twisted test, one Cas kept acing by turning up in their lives again and again.  Dean had fought it, pretending he didn’t care when Cas was gone, but Sam saw the way he fell into self-destructive tendencies, becoming dangerously reckless until Cas returned.  Whether or not he would admit it, it had evolved into something essential to Dean’s well-being. 

 

 

Sam had watched it slowly build for ages.  Seen it in the way Cas always sat behind Sam in the car so Dean could meet his eyes in the rear view mirror and in the way Dean found excuses to touch Cas’ arm or bump his shoulder when they walked.  They’d both noticed the way Cas stared at Dean from the start, but somewhere along the way Sam noticed that not only was Dean letting him stare, he was returning it, and then Dean was watching Cas even when Cas wasn’t looking at him.  And Christ, the way the two of them looked at each other, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if cartoon hearts started drifting up from the tops of their heads…. 

 

So, yes.  It was beyond time.

 

The next evening they were sitting around in Sam and Dean’s motel room.   They’d found a great place for dinner and while Sam had virtuously ordered a Caesar salad, he’d snitched quite a few garlic fries off their plates.  The garlic was pungent and lingering so Sam wasn’t surprised to hear water running in the bathroom and the unmistakable sound of teeth being brushed.   He’d go brush when Dean was done, he decided, and that’s when he realized it was Cas.  Cas, who kept all of his toiletries in his own room.

 

Sam felt his left eyelid begin to twitch. Dean was more than a little particular about toothbrushes and had long ago instituted a protocol of buying them in drastically different colors so there was no chance of getting them mixed up.   Dean always had green and when Sam had asked for blue, Dean informed him in no uncertain terms that blue and green were in the same color family and that was just an accident waiting to happen. (Dean had actually _shuddered_ at the thought.)  So Sam had orange, except for the times Dean would bring home sparkly pink Disney Princess ones for his little brother.  Which wasn’t cute when he was eight and definitely wasn’t cute now.  Sam made a face thinking of the last time Dean had done that.

 

“Look, Sammy, I got you an Ariel one.  She loves her hair, too!  Maybe you should try brushing yours with a fork.”

 

(That had been six weeks ago.)

 

Sam snapped.

 

“Dean!”  Dean looked around in alarm, looking for —and not finding-- whatever had gotten his brother so riled up. 

 

“What the hell, Sam?”

 

“You two.  Are sharing _._   _A TOOTHBRUSH!_ ”  Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother speechless.  Or blushing.  “Are you going to admit it or do I need to go in there and ask Cas myself?”

 

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, but he couldn’t hide his smile. 

 

“Yeah, ok.  Cas said you’d be mad if we didn’t tell you.”  Just then Cas came out of the bathroom looking alarmed as Sam dragged Dean up by his shirtfront. 

 

“Uh, Cas?  Sam knows.”  Sam pulled him over until he had Dean in one arm and Cas in the other, hugging them both to him. 

 

“I take it this means he approves?” Cas’ voice was muffled against Sam’s shoulder.

 

 _Now kiss!_ thought Sam.

 

 

 

 


End file.
